Arabesque
by coricidinForte
Summary: There's no such thing as love; not in Deluxe, not in Motorcity, and especially not during a rebellion. Claire x Julie. Character death.


Claire came down to Motorcity once every two weeks, sometimes more, and sometimes less. Nothing was fixed about her visits, all she would have to do is walk side by side with Julie as the other girl snuck outside of the blinding white city, leaving whenever she pleased. Half of those times were when Julie managed to convince her, usually by a twitch in the corner of her mouth, or by the way Claire would feel her looking at her from across the room.

She wasn't sure if any of the other Burners knew why she came down to Motorcity at all. Down in the underground city she would complain; it was repulsive, dirty, and old. The air was thick and carried the same smell of gasoline and iron with each passing day. It was both dark and dangerous, making her picture a modern day forest, where bloodthirsty wolves lurked behind each corner. Claire wasn't particularly fond of any of the other Burners, and you wouldn't find her caring if it showed. There was only one reason why she visited the land of broken buildings and neon lights. There was an itch she couldn't reach, a hunger that couldn't be fulfilled, a piece of her that was never satisfied.

They were relinquished in each electric touch of finger tips that moved down her bare back, the soft flesh that pressed against her lips, the giggles and the nails that dug into her hips when she moved the right way at the right time.

It was because of the lingering caresses, the look in her eyes, and the hanging threat that this might be the very last time.

Julie didn't love Claire, and Claire didn't love Julie. In Deluxe there was no such thing as love, only the regulations and rules. You stay in a clear box, procreate, and finally you die. In Motorcity, there was also no such thing as love, only adrenaline and desire. You sneak a kiss, fuck, and never let the serotonin and dopamine get the better of you or you'll find yourself either six feet under or standing in front of a grave once a week for the rest of your life.

The girl with a double life, a yellow car and long hair had sold her soul to her ideal; a free world for everybody. The girl who stuck to a life of cleanliness and safety stood by a corrupt city, not only because the life down under didn't suit her, but because she wouldn't allow a for future where Julie blamed herself for Claire's untimely death.

They existed as best friend, with benefits, never letting themselves buy into the idea of love simply because it could never work out. You can't be in love while fighting a war, you can't be in love while you refuse to fight for what's right. They kissed, they worried, they laughed. Claire would wake up with long hair obscuring her vision in a room that existed beneath a world with no stars. Julie would pull her to the backseat of Nine Lives and they would fuck with their shoes on. They would never make love, they were only friends; nothing more, nothing less.

Sometimes Claire would catch something in Julie's eyes. A certain type of sadness, the same kind of emotion that Julie would read in her smile. It was an addiction, they had what they wanted right in the palms of their hands, but they couldn't grab onto it. When they were lying beside each other, saying no words, Claire found herself wishing that she could kiss her and say 'I love you'. Not only to say it, but mean it, swear it. She wanted to grip onto this until her knuckles paled, until her flesh rotted away and her bones turned into dust. Instead she would close her eyes and listen to her heartbeat, distancing her mind from thoughts of what could have been if they were just born a century prior to today.

Every effort they made was in vain, it left Claire with the feeling bitter regret. She pushed everything she felt far away, but it would always remain, no matter what she told herself. It seeped out of her soul when she was made vulnerable, but she never let the damn broke, not even for a second. They made a line that could never be crossed, they had to remain friends, because lovers in this life were destined to burn and drown. It didn't amount to anything, every action they made to protect themselves transformed into another reason why she felt so hurt and broken down today.

The other Burners had buried Julie far away from the city, where the stars and moon would shine down on her grave. Mike would drive Claire to this spot once every two weeks, and Claire wouldn't talk until she was standing in front of the marker that showed that a girl that meant so much to all of them lied lifeless beneath the dirt. Sometimes she would cry because she felt like everything that could have been so brilliant was stolen from her; that they had robbed themselves of such a good thing, because they convinced themselves that something so beautiful shouldn't, and couldn't happen. She wished she could go back, and every time she had the desire to tell Julie that she loved her, she really would. She would show her how much the other girl actually meant to her. She would sacrifice a comfortable life and accustom herself to an existence in Motorcity, she would leave Deluxe with Julie, and they'd make love without any sadness in their eyes or on their lips.

It was too late for that now, there were no restarts or do overs with death. There was just four Burners, all blaming themselves for what went wrong on what should have been normal mission. There was a yellow car that never left a garage in a sunless city, an empty space at a table, and one less mouth to feed. There was Claire who stayed up night, where Julie's voice would be on repeat in her head, where she would remember the way the young rebel would touch her and she would try to recall the way her lips tasted. She would wake up alone, unfulfilled. She would go to bed alone, remorseful. The excitement and sense of danger had long left her, the days of sneaking out of Deluxe with anticipation spreading through her veins were long gone, and the center of her chest was left feeling cold.

Standing above Julie's grave, Claire could remember a lot of things. Sometimes she would stay for hours, other times mere minutes. No matter how long her stay was, her last words were always the same, as if they could make up for their wasted time.

_"I love you."_

* * *

**yep this was written for a kink meme on dreamwidith, later posted on archive of our own and today I said "might as well post it here too." even if it's been a month or two or something? oh well**_  
_


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